


Forever Young

by trisswrites



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Band, Band Fic, Concerts, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Modern AU, Rise to Fame, Rock Bands, Rock Stars, Slow Burn, Y/N becomes famous, Y/N is a fucking star, Y/N rises to success, adding tags as I go, band on tour, long fic, not globally famous or even internationally famous but they're on their way to the top, reader crushes on steve at first, rock - Freeform, they mindflayers are moderately famous, will be smut heavy in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trisswrites/pseuds/trisswrites
Summary: Hawkins, Indiana. 2019.In a simpler time in a simpler world, Hawkins, Indiana was never ravaged by creatures from a parallel universe, nor did it find itself the gateway to a much darker realm. Here, things are better. The most famous, small-town band in the region, The Mindflayers, lead by the dark and mysterious Billy Hargrove, drive down empty roads in the dark with the radio turned up after selling out concert after concert across the Midwest. And just when [Y/N] is about to go back to her hometown for the summer before her senior year of college, The Mindflayers find themselves in need of a backup singer, and promise [Y/N] a summer she’ll never forget.Things are carefree and reckless.But that doesn’t mean they’re easy.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. “Forever Young” in the style of Bad Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! For a complete storytelling experience, I recommend listening to the song(s) listed at the beginning of the chapter. They will also be the titles of the chapters! The big song featured in this chapter, as played by The Mindflayers is a hard rock cover of Forever Young by Bad Influence and is so so important to the chapter as it’s your first time seeing the band and when you first make eye contact with that boi 😉  
> Chapter notes will never be this long again, but I want to include some preliminary storytelling info that will apply to the work as a whole  
> -Steve is the lead on vocals, but Billy is the secondary singer.  
> -Billy is a beautiful beautiful tenor  
> -Heather won’t be around for long, fear ye not.  
> -If you hate any songs I use; sorry. I use these specific songs to brainstorm and create plots and scenarios which is why I’m tying them to this work. I think listening to these songs will help the reading experience but feel free to substitute your own music as well! Music featured will be covers by The Mindflayers, mainly rock and rockish pop but once or twice we MIGHT dip into country if it’s rough enough just to pay homage to the small town of Hawkins.  
> -Both this chapter and the title of the fic are "Forever Young" I promise there's a reason, and the rest of the chapters will be different. It will all come together and make sense when the fic ends. I already have this whole fucking thing planned.  
> -Writing in a way where the music is tangible is so so fucking difficult. I wish to god you guys could see this story the way I see it in my brain. But I promise to do my best and make you feel all the emotions.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

**FOR ONE NIGHT AND ONE NIGHT ONLY!!!**

Hawkins, Indiana’s “THE MINDFLAYERS”

Return to their hometown for a special, reduced-cost event

ONLY at Ruschmeyer’s Bar

Steve Harrington: Billy Hargrove:

Lead vocals, bass Lead guitar, vocals

Robin Buckley: Heather Holloway:

Precision, synthesizers, Guitar, vocals

backup vocals

“Are you _coming_?” You could practically _feel_ the impatience in Nancy’s voice from the other room.

“Yes!” You irritably insisted for the umpteenth time, dusting a touch more highlight onto your cheekbones. You were scrutinizing over the way you looked, but you didn’t usually go out. Not _out-_ out.

Your junior year of college had been the best, and you were disappointed that it was coming to a close. You should have been excited that summer was only a few weeks away. Nancy couldn’t _shut up_ about how excited she was to spend her days at the pool and her nights at the mall.

But you…well, for the first time in your life, you weren’t really looking forward to the summer. You weren’t looking forward to having to go back home out of state for break. You were finally coming out of your shell, going to house parties, making more friends, branching out. And sure, you could continue to be your newfound party-girl self once school was out for the year, but it wasn’t the same as having your friends together, and sleeping in never felt as sweet as it did when you were missing a morning class.

You stepped back from your vanity, examining yourself in the mirror. You looked good. You wore flattering skin-tight jeans and a cherry-red bodice top, and tied it all together with a knock-off Gucci belt you’d found on Amazon. You wore your hair in soft waves, nothing too overstated or suffocating or anything smelling too much like hairspray. Your makeup was soft but glamorous. You smiled at your reflecting, beveling your foot to admire the block-heeled ankle boots you were sporting. You looked _good._ You looked authentic. You looked like the _you_ that you were finally getting to know.

“ _[Y/N]!”_

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly swiped the back of your skull. “Jesus _Christ_ , Nance, I’m coming!” You shouted, snatching your purse from off of your bed and stomping into your shared living room.

The anger dissipated from her face once she saw you. “Whoa, you look _good.”_ She looked surprised.

“And _this_ is why I took so long.” You said, giving her a small “ _tah-dah”_ motion with your hands. “You look good too.” You said, eying her casual high-wasted jeans, crop top, and favorite red Sherpa-lined jacket. She’d get way too overheated in it, but at least she looked good.

“Come on. We’re gonna be late!” She cried, grabbing your wrist and practically yanking you out the door, down the hall, out the door, and into the parking lot. You were sitting in the passenger seat of her car and buckling your seatbelt practically before you could blink.

“Where are we going anyway?” You asked once she’d pulled out of the lot.

“We’re going to a bar,” she said, eyes not leaving the road, as if she was mentally and spiritually concentrating to get you there faster. Christ, the girl liked to party. “This band is playing tonight. They’re all people I went to high school with. One of them is actually my ex.”

“Steve?” You asked, whipping your head around to gape at her. “ _The_ Steve?”

You’d heard Steve’s story plenty of times over glasses of wines during your frequent 1 AM pow-wows with Nancy. You’d heard how he was her first love, but that ultimately her growing relationship with _current_ boyfriend Jonathan was _way_ too strong to deny. And you’d also heard how Steve had forgone college to join a band. Once, she found it funny that her high-school has-been ex had given up his education to pursue an impossible dream. But over the two years you’d known Nancy, they were selling out bigger and bigger venues every time he came up. Now, she wasn’t laughing.

“Jonathan meeting us there?” You asked

“Yeah, he’s coming from work. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see Steve.” She laughed.

You rolled your eyes.

“You know…” She pondered, “Steve’s a really great guy. I guess he’s been traveling a lot with the band, but if you could get past that-“

“Ew, are you trying to set me up with your _ex?”_

“What? No!” She answered loudly. Too loudly. “I’m just saying that he’s a really great guy. I wish we were still closer friends.” The defensiveness in her voice was palpable.

“That’s _weird,_ dude.” You laughed. “That, completely breaches girl code.”

“Screw girl code.” She said, rolling her eyes. “No such thing. Besides, I’m _way_ too happy with Jonathan to care about whoever Steve dates.” She laughs. “I’m just saying, he’s really nice. I’ll introduce you.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to hook me up with anyone, let alone Steve. What am I, a spinster?”

“No!” She laughed again. “But you know, you never know.”

“Nancy, I appreciate it, but I would _never_ go for your ex. That would be… cross-contamination.”

She shrugged, gaze still set on the road. “Better him than the guitarist.” She scoffed. The warning went in one ear and out the other, and within moments, was forgotten.

As it turned out, Nance was right to chew you out for taking so long. You _were_ late, but The Mindflayers were fashionably late too, so consequently, you were merely cutting it close. You found Jonathan almost immediately, sitting at the bar close to the door to keep watch for the both of you. He leapt from his seat the moment you paid the cover charge and walked through to door, not wasting a second before rushing up to Nance and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

If it were any other couple, you would have completely felt like you were third wheeling. But Jonathan was actually the first friend you made after moving to Indiana for college. Similarly shy and into classic rock, you spotted his AC/DC tee-shirt at a record store and struck up a conversation with him about the golden age of music. You’d be lying if you said the hope wasn’t that he was single at the time, but meeting him was how were introduced Nancy, and for that, you were more thankful than anyone really knew.

“You guys are late; they’re gonna start any second now.” He laughed, kissing the top of her head and giving you a little wave. You grinned, looking around the venue in delight and excitement as Nancy apologized for your tardiness, and subsequently blamed it on you, which was valid. Examining the bar, you saw that it was big. The stage was at the far end of the room, and plenty of general admission guests were already waiting eagerly for the band. There had to be at least a couple hundred people on the dance floor alone; the rest of the bar and seating areas near the door had to hold another fifty or more. Hawkins was a painfully small town; by the looks of it, half of the college had come to see the show, which had been kept under wraps to allow proud Hawkins citizens to exercise their hometown pride for the band that was making it big.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the lights began to dim. The bar was filled with a deliberately soft red glow that immediately sent shockwaves of excitement through your veins. 

“Come on.” He gruffed lowly, wrapping Nancy’s wrist, who clutched onto your forearm in turn, and began shoving through the crowd.

You grinned at the dozens of angry clubgoers shooting you glaring looks as you bumped against shoulders, committing the #1 concert “don’t” as you shoved your way to the very front of the bar through the crowd, all three of you blurting out sheepish “sorry’s,” “excuse me’s,” and “sorry, they’re our friends’s.”

Halfway through the mass of fans, people started screaming. You knew what that meant; The Mindflayers had taken the stage. But you were too focused on the suffocating crowd to look up for more than a split second.

“God, [Y/N], if you had been _any later than this,_ we would have been screwed!” Nancy shouted over her shoulder, her voice barely reaching your ears over the roar of the crowd.

The swift, deafening opening rips of an electric guitar cut through the air, and suddenly, the volume of the screaming around you doubled, and doubled again once everyone realized what song they were playing.

“ _Let's dance in style, let's dance for a while.”_

One opening line of musical lyrics was enough to make everyone lose their goddamned minds.

With one more push, Jonathan decided you wouldn’t breach the front few rows. Satisfied enough with where you were, close enough to the band to see the members incredibly clearly, you looked up and took it all in.

Steve Harrington.

He caressed the mic with both hands as he purred through the first verse. His voice was smooth and lazy, and he made looking like a laid-back rock star look so _easy._ He had a bass guitar slung around his back, apparently neglected for this song. There was a girl on electric guitar. She looked alternative and sexy and tough. Dark curls framed her olive skin as she strummed the guitar while smacking on a piece of gum. She looked bored, which should have pissed you off, but you couldn’t help but find yourself fangirling over how badass she looked.

And then there was the girl on the drums. You noticed she wasn’t playing; the lack of percussion on the first verse made the anticipation for the moment when the full force of the music would come together almost agonizing. She had short, brown hair, dark lipstick and wore a choker, twirling the drumsticks in her hands as she watched Steve sing like she was enjoying the show just as much as the rest of you.

And then there was him.

The last member had his back to the crowd. You could tell he had a guitar slung over his front, dangling against his middle as he chugged back a bottle of water as Steve sang through the opening verse, then placing it down on the ground near the drum-set. The way he so nonchalantly dealt with his water situation almost had you wondering if he even noticed that the loud, screaming crowd of super fans was even there.

And then the chorus hit. And everything crashed together: the drums, the bass, the guitars, the voices—and _him._

He spun around, vaulting himself to his place in front of his mic stand, sitting into his hips, and strumming his guitar like Eddie Van Fucking Halen. He leaned into the mic, sensually adding harmonies to Steve, who’d swung around his bass and began playing.

Loose, sandy curls hung down to his shoulders. He wore his read button-down shirt completely open and unbuttoned, and various necklaces hung low on his chest. The played the guitar with force and purpose but sang into the mic like it was pure sex.

You tugged Nancy’s arm, jerking her towards you. “Who’s on the guitar?” You shouted over the mind-numbing noise.

“That’s Billy Hargrove!” She screamed in response, before throwing her hands up and cheering.

_Billy._

After the reveal of the full sound of the first chorus, they started to let loose. Steve was all grins and jumps and pointed to the crowd when he could remove a hand from his instrument. The Billy stuck his tongue out to the girls in the front row, winked at them, thrusted his hips forward, stuck out a leg so they could touch his boot, or his ankle, if they were lucky.

Ah. So he was one of _those_ types.

You heard Nancy scream from beside you, raising her hands and jumping up and down, singing along to the words. You found yourself screaming too, adrenaline shooting through your veins and pure love for the song making you feel like you were on drugs. Watching Billy perform was like watching porn. But watching Steve was a pure delight. You could almost feel his love of the music, his adorable smiles and cheers making you love the band even more. Even Jonathan seemed like he was enjoying his girlfriend’s ex’s performance.

The second chorus hit with more intensity. You went to cheer, but the sound caught in your throat. Just before you could make any noise, Billy’s eyes flickered in your direction, and his gaze sort of just…fell into yours.

His flirty smirk slid off his face when he saw you. His brows slightly furrowed, he watched you standing there as he continued to play his guitar, seemingly without even having to think about the strings. Time seemed to slow down as he held your gaze. Your arms feel to your sides and just watched, let the music fill your ears, your heart, your throat, your body. And then, gradually, time fell back into place, and with the beginning of his guitar solo, he let your gaze go, and focused on his performance, which elicited even more screaming from his adoring fans. He lost himself in the music, falling back into his unmistakable cockiness, the guitar resting on his thrusted-forward pelvis, his teeth bit sensually down on his lower lip while he played, face contorted into a snarl.

The last chorus made you feel like you were on cloud-nine, and you could sense the similar sentiment shared with everyone else around you. The boys’ harmonies on the last “ _I wanna be forever young,”_ practically made you melt, and when the song ended, you were screaming, hands tossed in the air, head thrown back.

 _This kind of music_. This was what made you feel alive.

The rest of the set passed too quickly. You recognized a few good ones: Scotty Doesn’t Know, I’m Not Okay, Absinthe. It was over before you were done enjoying it, but the good news about the concert wrapping up was that you could go get drinks. You hadn’t intended on being sober for the concert, but your tardiness hadn’t allowed for it—not that you had any regrets. You, Nancy, and Jonathan stood around sipping on vodka lemonades and chatter over the music coming out of the stereos. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the live instruments; you could more or less hold a conversation. After you’d finished your drinks, you went back to the bar, deciding to buy the second round. When you returned to Jonathan and Nancy, you saw that they had company.

Nancy was hugging the girl who’d played the drums, and Jonathan, hands stuffed in his pockets, seemed to be enjoying a conversation with Steve. You nearly dropped the drinks, which Nancy noticed when she followed Steve’s gaze to find you standing there dumbfounded, your jaw hanging nearly to the floor.

“Oh, gosh, you have your hands full, thanks for getting those.” She murmured, taking two of the drinks and handing one to Jonathan. “Steve.” She said, after taking a lofty drink. “This is my best friend, [Y/N].” She told him, placing a hand on your back and giving you a not-so-gentle push towards him. You felt the redness blooming onto your face as you stumbled forward, suddenly remembering the conversation you had in the car.

He stuck out his hand and you nearly disintegrated on the spot. “Oh my God, your set was so good.” You stammered, grasping his hand like you were shaking hands with the Queen of England. “Holy shit.” You added before you could stop yourself.

He looked to Nancy and grinned. “She have a name?”

“[Y/N].” You flustered quickly.

“[Y/N].” He said, giving your hand one more hard shake before letting you go. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s always good to meet a friend of Nance’s.”

“I’m Robin.” The drummer said, grinning and bending forward to reach you and shake your hand before leaning back against the bar.

“You guys were seriously incredible.” You breathed. “And you’re from here? And you ended up…doing _that?”_

They laughed. “You’re not from Hawkins?” Steve asked.

“No,”

“Then how the hell did you end up here?” He laughed, pocking his hands in his jacket.

“Steve.” Nancy pressed, slithering forward to hug his arm. “[Y/N] here plays the guitar. She likes to make videos and stuff. She literally has the voice of an _angel_.” Her eyes were flirtatious, but it was clear that the woman was _flirting for you._

You opened your mouth to protest; you couldn’t tell the fucking Mindflayers you were a singer. She was setting up for the inevitable failure of following their act.

Just as you began to stammer “oh, no, no, I’m not, not really at all-“ Steve stepped forward, out of Nancy’s grasped, turning his attention to you and you completely.

“Really?” He asked, stepping close to you so you stood nearly in the crook of his chest. “That’s really awesome. It’s so cool to see people getting into music. Have you played and sang your whole life?”

“I’m not really trained,” You told him honestly, “and I could never do what you just did.” You said, gesturing to the stage. “I’ve been into it for as long as I can remember, but I just kind of do it for fun.”

He shrugged, and gave you winning, _kind_ smile. “Why do you think we do it?” He asked, nudging your arm with a hand that was still stuffed in his jacket pocket.

You smiled, and struggled to find words, too blinded by his adorable smile. He filled the silence for you, shifting his weight to his hip. “I mean, if you think _I_ was trained…I started off in my garage with a bass my grandma got me for Christmas. I mean, trust me.” He laughed. “I had no idea what I was doing. I’m sure you’re like,” he exhaled dramatically, “leaps and bounds above where I was.”

And then, just like that, the two of you were just talking the evening away. You felt so comfortable with him. He was so kind and authentic, making you feel heard even though throughout the course of your conversation, fans kept approaching him for pictures and autographs. He would smile at each of them, thank them personally for coming to the show, and tell them to get home safe before turning back to you and continuing where you left off.

“You’re pretty big in Hawkins.” You told him after the seventh fan or so. “Is it like this everywhere you go?”

He shrugged as he signed a girl’s napkin. “Not really. I mean— thanks guys, have a good night, get home safe,” he waved as she walked away. “We tour throughout the Midwest and we’re starting to sell out venues of around a thousand people. We’re shooting for bigger, of course, but it’s still pretty surreal. We wanted to keep this concert pretty under-wraps because it was really for the citizens of Hawkins. We didn’t want kids coming in from the next town over ruining everything when the whole point of tonight was to thank our hometown.” He waved and smiled at more doting fans who congratulated him on the show as they took their leave.

“What time is it?” You found yourself wondering.

Steve checked his watch. “One.” He said.

“Shoot.” You said, chewing the inside of your cheek. “We should probably head out soon…we have finals coming up. I’m gonna run to the restroom.” You said, stepping backwards to hold his gaze and smile at him as you dumbly added, “don’t…leave. Just…wait. I’ll be right back.”

He laughed, nodding, and you giggled, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before turning around and ducking towards the back hallway.

Two vodka sodas meant you were buzzed and when you were buzzed, didn’t feel like reading. Opening the first door you stumbled across, not realizing the words “supply closet” were plastered across the front instead of “women’s room.”

You opened the door, noticing immediately that you hadn’t found the women’s room.

You’d found a closet.

And you found a girl, bent over a table. And you found Billy Hargrove, balls-deep inside of her.


	2. Forever Young Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This…is [Y/N].” Steve said, placing a hand on the middle of your back. 
> 
> Heat flooded your face as Billy came to stand directly in front of you, so close you could smell his cologne and see the sweat glistening off his chest. You flushed violently as you were forced to look him directly in his ocean-blue eyes—or else you’d be the victim of some major suspicion from Steve.
> 
> The corner of his lip twitched upwards into a devilish smirk as he stared down at you.
> 
> “She was thinking of filling in for Heather.”
> 
> Billy’s head tilted to the side. “Is. That. So?” He drew out the words as long as he could, directing his gaze to Steve. His face had broken into a full-on smile. It was practically evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW IT'S SHORT PLEASE DON'T COME FOR ME. It was going to be longer and focus more on Y/N and Steve, but ultimately this is a Billy fic and while there is a bit of a love triangle at first, I don't want to end up with a heartbroken Steve. Also, this chapter is all about meeting Billy and launching into the next part of the story. Thanks for reading! ;)

Billy’s gaze lifted from what (or rather _who_ ) he was doing to meet yours. You completely stopped breathing the second you made eye contact with him, and the silence that hung in between you seemed to last a small eternity. You searched for the words but couldn’t find them; instead you found yourself just staring in disbelief at what you’d stumbled into.

His hands gripped her hips so hard his knuckles were white, though his grasp loosened when he saw you. He had his clothes on, pants shoved down no further than they had to be and his red button-down still opened against his chest. His hair was curly and wild and _fuck_ \-- it looked sexy, a few strands pressed to his forehead with sweat.

His expression was one of moderate surprise, but nowhere near that shock that was plain and evident on yours. His lips were parted slightly, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. He straightened up, eyes never leaving yours as you stood in the doorway with your lips parted in shock.

The girl—whoever the hell she was—was wearing a dress that was shoved up halfway up her ass. When she noticed that he’d stopped for a few seconds (or a few fucking hundred years, it felt like) she began to prop herself up on her forearms.

That was the moment you told yourself it was time to fucking bolt. You slammed the door shut and spun around, pressing your back against it and taking a few seconds to catch your breath. Suddenly, you’d forgotten that you had to pee in the first place, and decided to just get the hell out of there. You walked back towards the bar, figuring the best place to hide in your embarrassment was among the throngs of people, hoping you would disappear in the masses.

Steve found you before you found him, or any of your friends for that matter.

“You okay?” He asked. “You look like you’ve seen a…I don’t know, like, a ghost or something.”

Fuck. _This was your poker face,_ or so you thought. Must not have been as convincing as you thought. You didn’t want to rat at his bandmate for committing a misdemeanor-- or was it a felony-- even if Billy _did_ have the kind of look that screamed he’d done this before. And aside from all that, you really, _really_ didn’t want to talk about it.

Instead, you shoved a strand of hair behind your ear and tried to look as nonchalant and casual as you could. “Yeah.” You said. “You seen Nance?” You asked, looking around, suddenly hoping you could take your exit sooner rather than later, even though you were having such a nice time with Steve.

“Yeah, I think she’s close.” He said, following your gaze around the bar as if he was trying to catch her. “She was just here.” He murmured. “But hey, before you go, I wanted to run something by you.”

“Oh, okay, what’s up?” You asked.

“I said before we need a guitarist. We do. And a backup singer. Heather’s stepping out for a few months. I guess her dad’s going to rehab and she wants to be there for her family while he’s in recovery. We’re holding auditions, and have tons of interest from people already, but most of them are from the city. I’d really like our band to keep its integrity as Hawkins natives.” He said, placing a hand on his chest. “So what do you say? I’d really love to hear you give it a go.”

“I’m not a Hawkins native.” You said, furrowing your brow but smiling nonetheless.

“Well…yeah. But you live here now, and trust me, everyone in Hawkins knows everyone else and if we had a girl who could sing _and_ play guitar—trust me, I’d know about it.”

You raised your eyebrows, not meeting his gaze, and opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t think of a single word. You were about to go home for break. And the last you heard, they were heading out for a tour that would last all summer.

You were lost in your thoughts, until you saw Steve lean over to look behind you, and beckon someone over. “Oh, hey this is perfect.” He muttered. “Billy, over here.”

You turned. And there he was—the exact man who were hiding from.

He was striding over from the back hallway, looking just as uncaring as he had onstage. He walked over to the two of you like he hadn’t just had sex in a bar supply closet, but you noticed him subtly adjust his jeans by the belt.

“What.” He said, voice flat, holding up two fingers to the bartender and mouthing “ _tequila.”_

“ _This_ …is [Y/N].” Steve said, placing a hand on the middle of your back.

Heat flooded your face as Billy came to stand directly in front of you, so close you could smell his cologne and see the sweat glistening off his chest. You flushed violently as you were forced to look him directly in his ocean-blue eyes—or else you’d be the victim of some major suspicion from Steve.

The corner of his lip twitched upwards into a devilish smirk as he stared down at you.

“She was thinking of filling in for Heather.”

Billy’s head tilted to the side. “Is. That. So?” He drew out the words as long as he could, directing his gaze to Steve. His face had broken into a full-on smile. It was practically _evil._

“That’s not- no.” You corrected, looking between the two men, who both turned to look back at you. Billy raised his brow, the amusement plain on his face. Okay, so this guy was a _dickhead._

“Steve was just telling me about Heather’s sabbatical.” You said. “But I—ya know. I don’t…yeah.” Suddenly, you realized you were _barely_ speaking English, and barely holding it together you were so goddamn uncomfortable. And then you realized that Billy was _loving_ how embarrassed and flustered you were. He grinned—an open-mouthed, tongue-sticking-out-against-his-teeth _infuriatingly_ pompous and wicked smile. Why were you _the_ one who should be embarrassed? He got caught red-handed _fucking some girl in a broom closet_ and _that_ was on him—not on you. 

Your jaw set, and the sudden irritation you felt fueled your words: “It seems like you guys already do things in a very particular way in _very_ public places.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Billy. “The last thing I want to do is impose.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” Billy said, not maintaining eye contact as he turned to the bar to pick up the shots the bartender set out for him. “Nothin’ wrong with barging on in every once in a while.” He shot one of them back, hissing at the aftertaste.

“Yeah, and you get used to the big crowds and all that.” Steve said, face blank; clearly he didn’t register that silent battle between you and Billy, which was undoubtedly for the best—for now, at least.

You turned your attention to Steve, hoping Billy got the picture that you didn’t think he was hot shit—even if you were just pretending in order to spite him.

“Look, that’s a pretty crazy thing to ask me to do. I mean, you don’t even know if you think I’m any good, or if I have the right style for the group.”

“Well, we’ll just have you come to a session with us and see how we vibe.” Steve said simply, giving you a small shrug that read “problem solved.”

“Bang it out.” Billy added with a smirk, knocking back the other shot.

You tried to ignore him and failed, turning to look at him just in time to receive another devilish grin.

“We’re playing a show in Indianapolis tomorrow night. If you can make it, you should come. Watch our set; it’ll be a little different than tonight. We like to switch it up pretty regularly.” Steve said. “Listen to the songs, and if you know any, we’ll have you come to one of our rehearsals this week and see how you fit it.”

“I have finals next week.” You told him, everything on your face and in your body language saying you were tentative to agree.

“Come to the show tomorrow.” Steve said, taking a step closer. “And think about it. That’s all I ask.” He smiled. He was charming, and that made him all the more convincing.

Steve was close. His proximity, the lowness of his voice…was he… _flirting_ with you? He’d obviously taken an interest in you, sure, just because you were a so-called singer with a similar taste in music. But if he’d taken _another_ kind of interest in you…well, the guy would have to be delusional, right? You were just a small town girl who moved to a different small town, and he was a self-made artist traveling halfway across the country playing for small-ish crowds, sure, but the band was still in its infancy, and the fan-base they _did_ have were passionately and aggressively in love with them, and they had every reason to be.

As nervous and cornered and flattered you suddenly felt, you find your eyes straying…to Billy, who looked bored of the conversation that was being had before him. Your eyes darted back to Steve as you saw Billy turn away to the bar and pursue something more worthy of his time, no doubt.

Steve was kind. And he was interested in you. And without even knowing you, he believed in you and your art. He was willing, _wanting_ to give you a chance.

“Okay.” You said. “I’ll come.”


	3. "Bad Romance" In the Style of Halestorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just before the big moment, you took the mic all to yourself to riff the end of the chorus, you turned your head to see both Steve and Billy watching you closely. This was the moment of truth- did you have what it takes?
> 
> You gripped the mic like it was a hot boy you were about to kiss, closed your eyes, leaned into your body, opened your mouth, and the sound rang out of your mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS IMPROMPTU PERFORMANCE TIME!

When Saturday night came around, you felt well-rested from sleeping in half the day, and nervous as hell as you climbed into your car to head to Indianapolis. You looked down at your lap, staring at your white jeans, which forced you to contemplate your outfit; it was too much. You’d settled on white skinny jeans with rips at the knees and a straight-up shimmery silver crop top. Everything moderately sexy you owned was either at the bottom of your laundry basket, wrinkly, stained, or ripped, so you were forced to wear something too eye-catching. You prayed you people wouldn’t look at you and think you were trying too hard. But you shoved your insecurities into the back of your mind. You had bigger things, more _important_ things to think about.

The first of which was getting to Indianapolis. You looked at the empty seat next to you. You wished Nancy was coming with you. You also wished she was driving so you wouldn’t have to pay for a 45-minute Uber. She was held up with a history paper and gave you her word that if she finished in time, she’d be there later.

You’d told her about Steve asking you to audition for the band over hot mugs of tea after you’d gotten home last night. The last thing you wanted to do when you got home from a night out was drink _tea,_ but she swore it was part of her skin regimen and was dying to hear about what you and the boys with long, flowy hair had talked about all night.

“Are you gonna do it? Are you gonna join?”

You scoffed and looked to the side. “I’m gonna go to their show in Indianapolis tomorrow and _maybe_ I’m gonna go sing with them sometime just for fun. And then I’m gonna head home for the summer like my parents are expecting me to.”

She sighed and shook her head in disapproval.

You had also told her about stumbling upon Billy and the girl whose ass you got a pretty good look at while she was bent over the utility table.

You expected her to be surprised. Instead, she burst out laughing and said, “that sounds just like him.”

You quirked a brow.

“She must have been his fuck of the night. He was _infamous_ in high school for that sort of thing. Got detention all the time for making out with girls in every hidden corner in the existence of Hawkins High. Seriously, don’t get involved with that. You’d have a _way_ better thing going with Steve.”

“Ew, Nance, you need to stop trying to set me up with your ex.”

You’d told her to shut up when she started teasing you about Steve. But now, as you pulled out of the street in front of your shared dorm, you wished that she was there making fun of you if that meant she’d be coming with you.

The drive was long. Indianapolis was not particularly close. Halfway through the ride, though, you got a text from Steve.

Steve: You on your way

You: Yep!

Steve: come in thru the back entrance in alley.

You furrowed your brow. Not his usually cheery demeaner, but you figured connotation was hard to capture through a text message.

You asked the driver to pull up out back, which he did, and when he pulled up to the bar—or maybe it was closer to a club—you apologized for the length of the trip and threw a cash tip into the cupholder.

You stepped out, finding yourself in the middle of the alley, and someone was waiting for you at the back door.

It wasn’t Steve.

“Come on. We gotta go” Billy said, cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke. He gestured to the door, and the man did _not_ appear to be his usual fuck-the-world, I-don’t-care-about-jack-shit self.

You furrowed your brow as you stepped briskly towards him. He’d been holding the door open with his boot, and kicked it open enough for you to step in after him.

He took a long drag of his cigarette as he led you down the hall. He was walking so quickly you could barely keep up in your high heels.

“Am I late?” You asked.

“I mean, it would have been nice if you were here when we started.

You looked down at the clock on your phone. They weren’t scheduled to play for another fifteen minutes. “It’s 9:45.”

“We had a set earlier.”

“At 8.” You scoffed. “Steve told me to just come at 10:00. How’d it go?”

He looked over his shoulder at you. “How’d it go?” He scoffed. “Heather didn’t show.”

You stopped in your tracks for a moment, confusion hitting you hard, and then you realized he wasn’t waiting, and you sped after him.

He led you to a small room that The Mindflayers seemed to be using as a green room. All the members were there, along with a few tech people, and another woman you didn’t recognize, cuddled up to Robbin. Everyone looked positively unnerved. They were all standing around a table cluttered with spread-out sheet music when you entered the room with Billy. They all looked up and suddenly appeared slightly less anxious when they saw you.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“Heather cancelled on us.” Robbin said sadly.

“It’s her dad.” Steve said. “She had to go back to Hawkins.”

“She _bailed.”_ Billy corrected.

“Alright, tough guy, her dad OD’d. Let’s calm down.” Steve said quickly, holding up a hand.

“Everyone always says you never miss a gig unless you’re dead or dying.” Billy argued, tossing his cig into a wastebasket without even letting it cool.

“Great, well, her dad might be dying, so that’s almost good enough, buddy. Jesus, the shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes-“

“You wanna watch _your_ mouth there, Harrington?” Billy snapped back, taking a daunting step towards Steve.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Robin raised her arms in between the two of them. “You’re ruining this family. Can we all chill the fuck out and focus?”

“Did you play your first set?” You interjected.

Steve placed his hands on his hips. “Well, most of—actually pretty much everything Heather does—everything that- that _you’ll_ be doing,” he explained cautiously but quickly, as if he really _really_ didn’t want you to turn him down now, “is pretty much back-up stuff. Embellishment. Like, we played without her and it was fine, but we didn’t have all of our back-up vocals and the sound wasn’t exactly what we want.”

“Can you play your second set?” You asked.

Steve looked down at the sheet music. “Yeah, we’ve pretty much figured it out, and we think we’ll be fine. I mean, it sure as hell won’t sound as good.” He scoffed. “But almost everything is still perform-able except for our closing number.”

“You can’t do it?”

“No, we _have_ to do it.” Steve corrected. “It’s our closing number. It brings down the freaking house. We literally _cannot_ do the number without her vocals, and cutting it is not an option.”

“She’s not here, though.” You told him stupidly.

“Can someone get her a tee-shirt? She can’t go out there looking like a fucking street-walker.” Billy gruffed as he began rummaging through a duffle bag in the corner of the room.

“Really? I heard you like those.” You spat back, causing Robin and Steve to scoff. “Steve, what the hell is he talking about?”

Steve stepped towards you. “We need you to go on. Now. We need you to fill in.” He pleaded.

“ _What?”_

“Just the closing number.”

“Steve, I’ve never touched an electric guitar in my _life.”_

A tee-shirt hit you in the face. You gasped, yanked it away from your face, to see Billy staring at you from the side of his room where he’d been going through his bag. “Put that on. Tie it up into a crop-top or something.”

You shook your head in disbelief. What the fuck was happening?

“We can get by without Heather’s guitar part. Go through the vocals with Tammy while we play the set, and then she’ll send you out for the end.”

Who the fuck was Tammy? You looked around blindly, and your eyes landed on the girl near Robin, who was suddenly shuffling through the sheet music.

Billy appeared in front of you. “This isn’t some empty, shit-hole bar we’re playing in Hawkins. There are eight hundred people out there.” He smirked. “Looks like your audition’s been moved up.” He muttered, letting his gaze land on you and simmer before ripping it away and walking out of the room. “We gotta go.” He called without looking back.

“You’re gonna be great.” Robin said, trailing after him briskly. She placed a hand on your forearm as she passed. “Babe, can we get her some eyeliner? And maybe zhuzh up her hair a little, yeah?”

Tammy in the corner started going through someone’s bag, and soon, Steve was the only member of the band still in the room.

He stood in front of you and grasped your hands. “Please, please, _please_ just- just _do_ this for me, [Y/N], and I swear to God, I will never ask you anything this insane again.”

Completely stunned, you stared at him in silence. You took him in, and saw how desperate and frankly, scared he looked. You closed your eyes and nodded, unable to bring yourself to actually look at him while you agreed to something so insane and terrifying.

“Thank you.” He whispered, yanking you into a tight hug before bounding after Steve and Robin. “I swear I’ll make this up to you!” He called down the hallway. And then, he was out of sight.

You know, the shirt you’d worn had been growing on you and you were kind of sad to take it off, but you figured it wasn’t exactly consistent with their look. Tammy had you looking just punk-rock enough without over doing it. She’d flipped over your waves to give you a messy side-part and had done up your makeup with some false-lashes and burgundy lipstick. Billy’s “Scorpions” tee-shirt was oversized as hell but fit nicely once Tammy tied it up into a crop top just below your bra.

You _looked_ ready, but you didn’t feel ready at all.

She briefed you on the music. You stared down at the paper on the table like it was a big clue to a mystery, and you were Nancy Fucking Drew.

It was a pop-punk cover of Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. You knew the song; everyone and their mother knew the song. It was a great fucking song. But you’d never heard this arrangement before. It would sound different- the instruments were different, the speed would be different. But Tammy assured you there would be no major surprises. It was straightforward enough. You were taking some high harmonies in the choruses and throwing in a few riffs, also taking the end of each chorus an octave up to really pump up the sound and embellish the song.

You were a good singer. You knew that. But you weren’t trained, and you weren’t as experienced as any of the other musicians out there. You had to rely on your talent and your instincts, and you prayed it would be enough.

The half hour of their set was up way too quickly. And way before you were ready, you were standing at stage-door with the sudden realization that there was a solid possibility you were about to throw up in front of—how many people did Billy say were out there? Eight hundred?

Your stomach flipped in your gut, and you swallowed thickly.

“Before you go.” Tammy said, thrusting a bottle of liquor in your arms. You didn’t look at the label, just took a substantial swig as your ears filled with the sound of thunderous applause from the other side of the door. “You’re up.” She said, yanking the bottle away and opening the door, giving you a little shove.

“What the hell do I do during the first verse? I don’t sing till the chorus!”

“Pretend like you’re having fun.” Was her last piece of advise before the door shut between you and your last lifeline was cut off.

You felt sick to your stomach, completely naked and exposed as soon as you stepped out from the protection and cover of the wings. It felt like something out of a nightmare- you, and eight hundred screaming fans of a band you were suddenly a part of, even if only for one song, for which you were substantially underprepared. You held your breath as you took your first steps onto the stage. You couldn’t even hear your high heeled boots hitting the floor over the sound of the applause. You tried to look inconspicuous as you walked behind Billy and Steve to take your place on the far side of the stage, and getting there felt like it took about a million years. You stepped up to the stand and didn’t look at the crowd, confident that you’d be sick if you looked away from your microphone.

The opening notes from Billy’s guitar tore through the sound of the deafening applause. They caused you to jolt, and then a sudden drumbeat akin to a shotgun going off sounded behind you, practically causing you to duck for cover.

You looked to Steve, standing in between you and Billy, for guidance. With kind eyes, he gave you a nod. _You can do this,_ his expression said. You looked past him to Billy, who also had his eye on you even as he was playing the intro. He looked at you with scrutiny and distrust. You looked away from them both and back into your mic.

Goddammit, you had to prove yourself. And more than that, you had to stick it to Hargrove.

You took a breath, trying to will yourself to look up again.

Steve began singing the verse. You glanced at him, popping your leg to the beat and trying to look like you were halfway enjoying yourself. Billy came in with the backup vocals. You had to admit, it was pretty incredible seeing them perform from this angle, from this proximity. Being in the middle was amazing. You just didn’t want to be a _part_ of it.

Your jaw was clenched with nervousness and tension. You tried to find stability in the consistency of Robin’s drumbeats, grounding yourself with the repetitive sound that beat nearly perfectly to the beat of your heart, which was about to burst out of your chest and splatter onto the front of the stage.

You closed your eyes as the verse’s end drew near. Hopefully the fans would think you were just in your own little world, jamming to the music and blocking everything else. In reality, you were focusing on not losing your dinner in front of all eight hundred of them.

You heard the last note of the verse and your stomach flipped and you stepped up to the mic, groaning the words that lead up to the chorus:

“ _You know that I want you. And you know that I need you.”_

Somehow, your eyes found Billy’s. He was watching you.

“ _I want it bad. Bad romance.”_

His rock-and-roll scream ripped through the club, and the sudden crash of instruments and their full force of sound set your soul on fire.

You and Steve took the chorus, you on the high harmony. You leaned into the words and the music on the strange, inexplicable high of all the music surrounding you and the sudden explosion of sound.

Just before the big moment you took the mic all to yourself to riff the end of the chorus, you turned your head to see both Steve and Billy watching you closely. This was the moment of truth- did you have what it takes?

You gripped the mic like it was a hot boy you were about to kiss, closed your eyes, leaned into your body, opened your mouth, and the sound rang out of your mouth.

When you opened your eyes, you saw two things happen at once. Steve raised his arm into the air, pumping his fist and cheering you on, rousing the crowd to urge you to do the same.

Billy was still strumming his guitar, but he was watching you in shock. His face had gone blank. And then, you realized, his backup vocals didn’t happen. He missed his entrance. _He missed his fucking entrance._

With the energy of a teenager on crack, Steve leapt to Billy. Billy’s eyes darted back to him. You could see in his eyes that both of them had caught his mistake, a mistake caused by the sheer shock of hearing your voice for the first time. He sang the next part correctly, got himself back on track. Steve jumped back to his mic-stand, dancing and moving, pumping up the crowd like a complete pro.

You rode the exhilaration and pro for the rest of the song, and soon, Billy was back to his normal, head-banging self, all but making love to his instrument. Each time you sang, Steve egged on the crowd to get excited over the immense and powerful sound coming from your mouth. The fear was gone. The hesitation. They freaking _loved_ you. _All_ of you. This- whatever this was- was working. It was _perfect_. The sound, the way it made you feel.

Perfect.

The song ended, and the sound of the screaming and applause was loud enough to fill your whole body. Steve strutted up to you and raised your arm into the air, and somehow, the sound got louder. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked over the extensive crowd, their arms raised for you, their mouths screaming admirations and expletives. A smile cracked your face and your body was wracked with pride and excitement. You cheered back, raised your other fist, and threw your head back, taking in the moment, the victory.

With his guitar in hand, Billy exited the stage without so much of a wave to his fans. Robin followed close behind him. Steve wrapped an arm around you and lead you off. The moment you were in the wings, he seized your arms and gave you a hard shake.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He yelled, elated. “I can’t _believe_ you can sing like that! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know!” You squealed. “I didn’t know I could do _that,_ sing in a rock band! I mean, that was incredible!” You stuttered, breathing hard. Before you knew it, Robin and Billy were at your sides, Robin giving you a hard pat on the back.

“That was bitching, dude.” She said, laughing.

You looked to Billy. He stood over you with his arms crossed. He was silent, but gave you a small nod. A grin cracked onto your face.

Steve yanked you into a tight hug, diverting your attention. You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “I’ve never had so much fun in my life.” You admitted, holding him close.

“Fun’s not over yet.” Steve said, pulling away. “What would you say to a party tonight, rock star?”


	4. Bad Romance II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aw, come on, not the fucking glass!” He roared, chucking the lighter onto the dashboard and taking a deep inhale, bringing his fingers to the cigarette. He revved started the car and revved the engine. And suddenly, as the roar of the motor grounded your senses, you found yourself wondering just how you found yourself in a car. Alone. With Billy Hargrove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! I decided to either split this chapter into 3 parts, or at least have the events of this chapter wrap up in the next part. Regardless of how it lines up, the events of this chapter aren't done yet. I'm still deciding how I want to end it, and I figured best to split it up than make you guys wait any longer. Enjoy!!

Teetering on your high heels, you struggled to keep up with Steve, who was walking as briskly as humanly possible, still raving about the electricity of your performance.

“Steve!” You called, legs wobbling slightly as you tried to pick up the pace, heels clacking on the pavement of the alleyway. “Where did you say we were going?”

“ _Jesus,_ I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it! They _loved_ us. You!” He said, turning around to jab a finger at you repeatedly. “You’re a fucking _legend.”_

“Steve.” You laughed. “Where the hell are we going?”

“My car.” He said, pulling out his keys and pressing a button. You heard a “beep” in the relatively near distance. “I know, we got the most VIP parking spots in the joint. But at least parking in the back means we don’t have to…you know. Fight the rabble out front.”

“Right but where are we- _Christ,_ Steve, can you slow the hell down?”

He finally stopped walking and turned to you. You halted abruptly, nearly tripping over your goddamn stilts.

“A party.” He repeated, as if his simple explanation- or rather announcement- that you were coming was enough information to let you know what was going on.

“A party _where?_ We just played at the fucking _Vogue_.” You laughed, heart warming at the memory. “I think that’s all the party I have in me.”

He _pshhh’d_ you and put his hands on his hips. “Come on, I have a buddy who lives around here who’s been planning this thing for the band for _weeks_ to celebrate us kicking off our tour. You’re part of the band now-“

“I was part of the band for _tonight-“_

“Debatable.” He corrected you quickly, pointing a finger at you, “And will be a topic of conversation for later. But tonight…” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, “we got places to be.”

“What’s the hold up?” Billy asked, finally catching up to the both of you. Robin and Tammy trailed a few feet behind him. He was finishing up a cigarette, the remnants of which he flicked to the side of the street.

“No hold up.” Steve said nonchalantly.

“You sure ‘bout that? Look again, pretty boy.” Billy replied, pointing ahead.

Steve and you turned around just in time to find a throng of fans, most of which looked lost, wandering at the other end of the alley. You all stopped dead in your tracks. There had to be forty of them, maybe fifty. And you saw the _exact_ moment that the group spotted all of you—the exact people they were looking for.

You heard the first fan scream. And then a second. By the time the third one joined in, The Mindflayers began to _bolt._

The hoard of fans was making a beeline straight towards you.

You felt a hand grab either wrist. You looked up. Steve had a hold on one, but you were pulled in the other direction. Without thinking, your ears filled with the sound of screams, you followed where you were being led— _right towards the mob._

You heard yourself squeal as Billy yanked you to a blue car parked halfway between where you stood moments before and where the fans had entered the alley.

“Go, go, go!” He shouted, opening the door and shoving you inside before putting a hand on his bumper, leverage for him to catapult himself off of it and jump to the driver’s side. In the same second he opened the door and jumped inside, several hands of screaming, adoring fans starting smacking on his windows, like a hoard of zombies from “The Walking Dead.”

You sat stiff in your seat, chest heaving from the adrenaline. Billy threw a cigarette into his mouth and started flicking on the lighter.

“Aw, come on, not the fucking glass!” He roared, chucking the lighter onto the dashboard and taking a deep inhale, bringing his fingers to the cigarette. He revved started the car and revved the engine. And suddenly, as the roar of the motor grounded your senses, you found yourself wondering just how you found yourself in a car. Alone. With Billy Hargrove.

He kept revving the engine, rolling down the window enough to stick out his arm in attempt to wave the crowd away. “Hey, why don’t’cha all get out of the fuckin’ way!” He shouted.

“You know, being an asshole to a modest fan base probably isn’t the best move as emerging talent.”

“That look fuckin’ modest to you?” He turned to you and gestured to the window. You watched his cigarette bob between his lips with each word. You squeezed your legs together.

A sudden smack on your side of the car made you jump. Turning away from Billy, you saw more of them- fans smacking on the window, on your door. They were peering in, and waving. Waving at _you._ Cheering and screaming. A smile broke out onto your face.

Billy put the car in reverse, inching back slowly.

You waved back at them and pressed a hand to the glass, which drew a scoff from Billy as inch by slow inch, he tried to back out of his parking spot.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ about goin’ out there.”

“I might.”

“The hell you will. You open that door and my baby gets swarmed.”

“Excuse me?”

He scoffed again. “My. _Car_.” He said, drawing out the words obnoxiously long so you got the point. “They’ll rip the door off to get their hands on me.”

“On _you_?” You scoffed back at him. “Looks like they’re pretty interested in the new girl.” You mimped, turning back to the window.

“Trust me. You don’t want to get out there. Unless you feel like getting trampled. Put on your fuckin’ seatbelt.”

“Oh, come on. There can’t be more than…” you squinted, biting your lip. “A couple dozen?” 

He ignored you, narrowing his eyes at his rearview mirror, focusing on navigating the mob blocking his way. Eventually, the further and further he managed to pull out, he managed to evade them. Once they realized he wasn’t coming out of the car, they finally began to dissipate, slowly, but surely. As he did, you pulled out your phone, and did a quick search of “The Mindflayers” on Instagram.

Fifty thousand followers.

Huh.

So maybe you underestimated their “modest” fan base after all.

“It must be kind of intense to be followed and stuff like that.” You offered. “But at the same time, it’s kind of nice. It means they really liked us.”

He put the car and park and turned to you, looking at you with a soft smile on your face. It was so gentle, you thought that maybe your words weren’t completely and utterly stupid.

“They’re here,” he said after a moment, “because they liked _us._ Me, Steve, and Robin. Do yourself a favor and remember that you’re not one of us.” With that, he turned away from you, put the car in drive, and pulled out of the alleyway, leaving you both in silence.

Throughout the drive, it became abundantly clear that Billy wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Or, actually, he was; after you got to the party, you saw him chatting up a handful of girls at a time like it was his regular side-hustle. With you, though, he was colder. He didn’t seem interested in talking to you unless it was to push your buttons. You stuck to Steve like you were surgically attached to his hip once you were at his friend’s impressive bachelor pad in the heart of the city. If Billy wasn’t any help in making you feel welcome, Steve, Robin, and Tammy made up for it in full. While Billy was chatting up his “fucks of the night,” as Nancy’d put it, the rest of the Mindflayers were introducing you to friends and raving about your breakout performance.

“Seriously, it was a total last-minute thing!” Steve enthused while holding a beer in one hand and a shot glass in the other. “We had _no_ idea she was gonna sound like _that.”_ He laughed, tossing the shot into the back of his throat. “I was not expecting it at all. When she opened her mouth I just about…” failing to find the words he wanted to say, he mimed a blowing-up gesture next to his head and made and explosion sound with his mouth.

You looked down at your feet and grinned as Robin slung an arm around your shoulders. You looked up at Billy across the room just in time to see him lean in and press his lips close to a girl’s ear, whispering lowly against it. Then his eyes flickered upwards—and met yours.

You turned away from him the second your heart caught in your throat and tried to commit your attention to your new friends. Who _actually_ seemed to be interested in you.

Two shots in and you, Steve, Robin, and Tammy were dancing in the living room. The party was dope as hell—leagues above the frat and house parties you’d been attending in college. Whoever owned this place was a trust fund kid for sure; the entire place was modernized and low-lit neon signs hung on the walls, coating the entire room in a deep, sexy red. It _screamed_ bachelor pad, and you felt fancy, rich, and famous just by being there.

Once your blood was warm and you could feel your tongue tingling in your mouth from the alcohol, a song from the Mindflayer’s first EP came over the stero. Steve laughed, running a hand through his hair and pulling you by the wrist to the in-home bar. “I can’t dance to myself. Too weird.” He laughed, drunkenly pouring two shots and sliding one towards you.

“I want you in the band.” He said.

“Steve…”

“I mean it. Hey, Robin.” He said, looking over and catching her eye, beckoning her over.

“I want you in the band. I want her in the band.” He repeated, turning towards her.

You looked at Robin for approval. She had an easy-going vibe about her that was impossible to miss. She just smiled and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly before giving looking between you both and nodding.

“Three months. You, me, Robin, Tammy, and Billy. All of us on the road. Playing sold-out shows across the Midwest. Come _on,_ just come with us! They _loved_ you out there. I mean, I can’t sing like you!” He exclaimed, as if your sudden appearance was saving him from being the lead singer. “Just come with us. Live a little. It’s just three months.”

You looked at him for a long time. Fuck, you wanted to go with him, but you were drunk, and you shouldn’t make important decisions while you were drunk. But then again, who said it was some big decision? It was just three months. When had you ever done something spontaneous? This could be your moment to leave it all behind and, just for one summer, do something crazy.

You looked at Robin, and then back at Steve. A smile broke onto your face, and you grabbed Steve by the collar. “Yes.” You laughed. “Yes, I’ll go with you!” You found yourself jumping up and down, drunk on tequila and excitement. Steve, elated, handing you a shot glass and took the other for himself. You cheers’ed and drank, hissing at the burn in your throat and laughing through the pain.

“What’s all this?” You heard a gruff voice from behind you. You turned. Billy was not-so-subtly re-buttoning his blue collared shit—not past the middle of his chest, of course.

“She’s in the band!” Steve hollered, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“That so.” He huffed. “Were we gonna have a conversation about it? You know- _we?_ The actual members of the band?”

“ _We_ just did.” Robin quipped softly, gaze dangerously flickering up to challenge Billy.

“You can’t just convene a band meeting without me.”

“We can’t help it if you spend every free moment the rest of us have fucking strange girls in other dude’s bedrooms.”

Irritated, Billy kissed his teeth. The tension between him and Robin was high; you got the impression that she was the one who typically kept him in line, not that it could have been easy. While the two of them were standing off, a very drunk Steve was busy planning your entire tour.

“We’ll have to revamp the whole set-list. I want to showcase her voice more. Fuck, this is going to be _awesome_!”

Billy ran his tongue over his teeth and watched you in silence for a long while. “Guess it’s settled then.” He finally replied, leaning against the bar and turning his gaze towards you, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly, his attention was all on you—and he was very close. So close that you could make out the individual pieces of stubble on his jaw. You could watch the light reflect on their blond color. You held your breath. “Welcome to the group, princess.” He smirked. His voice was full of…well, a lot of things, most of which you couldn’t discern. Annoyance? Interest and curiosity, but in a bad way? An excitement for the inevitable chance to torment you? He smacked the bar with his palm and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood frozen for a few moments, the effect of Billy Hargrove failing to wear off until after he was gone.


	5. Bad Romance III

Billy was long gone, but his words still stung more than you cared to admit, or remember. Tammy was gone too, standing a ways back, tending to a stumbling Steve. That had left you and Robin alone at the bar, and you were feeling more dejected than you should, having just been inducted into the Midwest’s most up-and-coming band.

Honestly, you were kind of offended on a _personal_ level. Billy would notoriously screw anyone with a heartbeat-- except you, who he seemed to think were the scourge of the earth. Why did he hate you so goddamn much?

“He’ll warm up to you.” Robin had said. Steve, your other lifeline, was no longer in the building—mentally, at least. Spiritually, he was on another plane. “He just doesn’t like change. And, you know, Heather sort of did a number on him.” She scoffed. “Just don’t take it personally. He acts like a big, tough man, but underneath, he’s sort of a baby.” She chuckled. “He’ll get used to it.”

It had made you feel better. Billy may have been against you, but at least you had Steve, Tammy, and Robin. And within minutes, sure, you were still thinking about Billy, but at least you were dancing in the living room again, doing your best to put his cruelty behind you.

You were warm and drunk—too drunk to realize that Steve wasn’t in the best shape. You weren’t in the best shape yourself. Neither were Robin and Tammy. But it took Steve toppling over the coffee table and landing in a heap on the carpet for you to realize that he’d had too much to drink. And not in the way that you’d _all_ had too much and were stumbling around like idiots, but that he needed a bed. And probably a trash can.

“He looks like he’s gonna puke any minute.” Robin said, kneeling down to slap his cheek. “Hey. You awake in there?”

He mumbled. He was awake, but just barely, and he wasn’t coherant. You leaned down to help Robin lift him to his feet, Tammy spotting him from behind. You ducked under one of Steve’s arm, Robin under the other, and led him out of the throng of partiers still on the makeshift dance floor, each of them cheering and giving him encouraging slaps on the back as you ushered him away the best you could on drunkenly wobbling legs and stiletto heels.

“Fuck.” Robbin huffed, missing her step and falling against the wall. She was at least four shots and a mixed drink deep, and it didn’t help that she had half of Steve’s weight on her shoulders.

“Should we just leave?” You asked, shifting your position to get an easier grip on Steve.

“No, not yet.” She said, scanning the party. “Who knows where Billy is.” She scoffed. “Plus, let’s face it, none of us can drive.” She sighed.

“Stay here.” Tammy said, patting Steve’s shoulder.

Within five minutes of you and Robin leaning exhausted against the wall and adjusting yourselves under the awkward weight of a rag-doll version of Steve, Tammy was back with Tommy. You hadn’t met him for long, but Steve had briefly introduced you earlier when he was raving about your addition to the performance. Tommy took one look at Steve and dejectedly put his hands on his hips.

“Fuck.” He said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “He can crash in my room until everyone clears out, but I you all gotta leave with rest of them. Should give him a couple hours to sober up.” He said, brushing past you to start up the stairs to lead you to his room.

You and Robin climbed the stairs like it was a treacherous cliff-face, which was exactly what it felt like. Tammy guided Steve by his hips from behind. When you finally reached the bedroom, there was, of course, a horned-up couple making out on the bed. For a half-second, you expected it to be Billy. Tommy snapped his fingers to grab their attention and jabbed his thumb to the door. Wordlessly, they gathered themselves and ducked out of the room per the instructions of the man of the house. You finally let loose of Steve, who flopped onto the bed, passed-out cold.

“Make sure he doesn’t puke on any of my shit. Bathroom’s down the hall if he needs it.” Tommy said, before clearing out and returning to his party. There was something about the guy, a cockiness that rubbed you the wrong way. But at least he was offering even a little bit of help, which was more than Billy could say.

You nodded your thanks and crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe once he was gone.

“Let’s just let him rest up a bit.” Robin sighed, crossing her arms and leaning back against the back of his armchair she’d flopped herself onto. She was clearly pouting, but you couldn’t blame her. From the sound of the music and chatting downstairs, the party was far from over.

“I’ll watch him.” You offered. “I can sober up and drive later.”

“You sure?” Robin asked, quirking a brow.

“Go ahead.” You said, nodding. “I think I’ve had all the fun I can handle for one night.”

Robin stood, shaking your shoulder as she passed. “I promise we’ll build up your tolerance over the summer.” She sang, before dragging Tammy out of the room and shutting the door behind them.

Sighing, you crossed the room and collapsed into the armchair against the far wall. You curled up in the large, cushioned seat and pulled out your phone, scrolling through Instagram to pass the time and to keep yourself from falling asleep; you hadn’t noticed how tired you were until you actually sat down for the first time in an hour and a half.

Amid your scrolling, the man passed out in Tommy’s bed was tugging at the back of your mind. You looked up from your scrolling and looked at Steve, who was peacefully and blissfully unconscious. You grinned softly, wondering what you’d done to earn or deserve his support. Without even knowing you, he believed in you. He believed in your talent enough to give you a shot when it mattered the most. He’d trusted that you wouldn’t let them down. But why? Maybe it was because once, he had been just a kid teaching himself to play guitar who dreamed of doing bigger and better things than being born in a small town and never, ever leaving it. Maybe once he’d been where you were—terrified of never trying anything exciting. And most terrifyingly of all- of never reaching your potential.

You stood and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to him. You brushed the hair off of his forehead and gazed down at his face. He was still breathing, so all was well.

“Thanks, Steve.” You whispered, standing and heading for the door.

Several drinks had finally caught up to you, and you made a mental decision to head to the bathroom to pee, eyeing a trash can in the corner of the room and placing it next to the edge of the bed for Steve as a cautionary measure before leaving and shutting the door quietly behind you.

The party was still raging downstairs; you could hear it loud and painfully clear while you were in the bathroom. You were still buzzed, steadied yourself on the doorframe as you exited the bathroom and headed back into the dimly-lit hallway.

And as soon as you stepped out, you collided with Billy.

You braced yourself against his chest, and as soon as you found your balance, took a step back, cursing your luck.

“Where’s Steve?” He muttered.

You jerked your head towards the bedroom door down the hall.

“He good?”

“Yeah, he’s resting now, no thanks to you.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break.” He smirked and crossed his arms, a low, amused laugh rumbling from his lips.

Okay, so, maybe you were just a hair on the dramatic side.

“All I’m saying is I’ve got it covered.” You told him. “Go enjoy the party. I’ll try to avoid any closets.” You swiped, and went to side-step him to head back to Tommy’s room.

But Billy was faster, and he was blocking your path the second you tried to shove past him.

It took you by surprise. So much, it just about knocked the breath out of your chest. You swallowed thickly and raised your gaze to look at him.

His eyes bore into yours. His blue eyes were swimming with heat and intensity and intimidation, and it made you want to stand down, to shrink against the wall and disappear. But you fought the urge, standing your ground and glaring at him with equal magnitude and strength. You wouldn’t stand down, not from this…this _asshole_ who still refused to give you the time of day. This asshole who, now, was standing in your way and refusing to step aside.

The silence brewed between you for so long that you thought it would lead to some chemical reaction that would cause the house to spontaneously combust. _That_ was how heavy the air was between you. You stood in that silence for quite some time, but if those fucking eyes were any indication of whether or not he was going to step out of your way, it seemed that you were going to have to change your approach.

You shook your head as you stared up at his infuriating smirk. He was just trying to test you. To push your buttons, like always. And for what? What reason did he possibly have to crawl under your skin and burrow a festering hole of irritation and rage?

“What is your fucking problem?” You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. “What is this… _vendetta_ you have against me?”

He smirked again and you shook your head. You wanted him to stand down, to move out of your fucking way like a regular person. But Billy Hargrove was the single most stubborn person you’d ever met. And you’d him for all of about two days. Still, that didn’t change your judgment of him in the least.

Defeated, you scoffed, and went to step around him, making sure to shove up against his shoulder in the process. “You seem really sane, Hargrove.” You spat behind your shoulder, glaring daggers at him as you passed.

But you didn’t make it two steps before you felt his forceful hand around your wrist. And before you could take a breath, you felt yourself being hurled back against the wall, and your back slamming up against it in the same moment.

You stopped breathing altogether. The second you were pressed in between the wall and Billy, his hands placed beside you on either side of your head, nose nearly brushing yours, you realized that you didn’t even _remember_ how to breathe. He stood directly in front of you, lips so close you could press yourself up on your toes just the slightest amount and be kissing him.

Once that thought entered your mind, it refused to leave.

You could feel the whisky coming off him in intoxicating waves. It flooded your senses, clouding your judgement.

You took in every detail, everything about him. His lips slightly parted, his eyes still unmistakably blue in the dim light of the hallway. Strands of sandy-blond curls hung lazily over his forehead and across his eyes. Those same eyes were trailing down the features of your face, examining you. Sizing you up. He was smug, but at least he was finally silent.

And his cologne…his fucking cologne. Cheap and strong and mixed well with the scent of whisky. It was practically making you dizzy.

Dizzier than you already were.

Making you lose your fucking mind.

Making you forget how to care.

_Fuck it._

Your mind was screaming at you. And there was only one way to shut it up. To stop the boiling in your blood. The want that you couldn’t deny.

Before you knew what you were doing, your fingers seized the collar of his blue shirt and yanked him towards you. The moment you reached up for him was the same moment he leaned down to catch your lips against his.

Your heaving chest pressed up against his, your back slightly arched. Your fingers held the cloth of his collar tightly, as if you were afraid he’d slip away back into the crowd downstairs, nowhere to be seen for the rest of the night. His hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks fiercely as his lips molded onto yours. You tasted whisky on his tongue, and it made your head spin and you kissed him for everything you were worth, with every ounce of the fire and anger he’d ignited in you.

He stepped closer, closing you in, pressing tighter against you. You were ready to start ripping off your own clothes right there in the middle of the hallway…until you heard a voice to your left.

You gasped and pulled away, your head whipping to the side. A small group of girls you didn’t stood at the top of the stairs, looking at you and Billy. And giggling. You turned back to Billy, feeling your cheeks burn. He was panting slightly, looking back at them with a barely-furrowed brow, as if he was almost worried about the two of you being walked in on, but not quite.

He didn’t say anything.

“Sorry.” You heard one of them laugh after an agonizing silence, before they turned around and stumbled back down the stairs, giggling as they went.

Suddenly, you remembered that you were in a very public place. With a high-profile individual.

And you’d been about two seconds from getting naked in the middle of Tommy’s house.

You exhaled shakily, still pressed against the wall, and looking towards the other end of the hallway where Tommy’s room was. Gathering yourself, you slipped past Billy and ducked back into Tommy’s room, gathering your things before taking your exit.

You didn’t remember if he was still in the hallway when you came back out. You simply made a beeline for the stairs, your brain too foggy, confused, and mortified to even notice or remember if he was there. You slipped into the crowd, trying to keep your head down, and found Tammy as fast as you could.

She was dancing with Robin, and you grabbed her arm without warning, not meeting your eyes when she turned to you, a drink in hand.

“Are you good if I head out?”

“Everything ok?”

“I just...I have finals starting Monday. And I don’t feel very good. I think I should go.”

“Okay.” She said, her voice sympathetic.

“I’m really sorry. I can pay for an uber for you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be okay. Ten bucks says Tommy lets us crash here. He always does.”

“Okay…someone should watch Steve.”

“I’ll head up there right now.” She assured you. “And we’ll see you this week?”

You nodded, meeting her eyes just for a second, before apologizing again and heading for the door, phone in hand and your uber app open.

You took a deep breath as you stepped outside. What the hell had you _done_ in there? You shook your head, trying to shake away the multitude of confusing thoughts that were plaguing your mind. You felt like a bad friend for leaving everyone there, especially since you said you’d drive. But you couldn’t think about that right now. All you could think about as you walked down the sidewalk, was putting as much distance between you and Billy Hargrove as humanly possible.


End file.
